


The Watcher

by resqueln



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, POV Second Person, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-27 01:09:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1709474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/resqueln/pseuds/resqueln
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short Sherlock/John oneshot.  Mycroft's POV.</p><p>Written prior to the season 2 finale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Watcher

Today was the day the reports confirmed what you had suspected for at least a week. The surveillance footage is crystal clear on the screen before you, your brother and John Watson arguing. Nothing unusual, you suppose, to someone who couldn’t _see_.

You take a long sip of brandy and sit back. The leather of the chair creaks as it adjusts under you. You watch.

There’s no sound, nothing but the clues in their body languages, the occasional word you can lip read. Wait - something unforgivable said? Something to make them pause and consider. Ah yes, your brother’s way with tact, judging by Dr Watson’s expression. For once your brother looks contrite, reaching for the good doctor’s arm as he tries to walk past. Both freeze, a moment where it all seems to hang in the balance and then - 

You press pause and the scene is frozen. It’s easier to look at Dr Watson, the surprise on his face, eyes half open as your brother kisses him. You examine every detail, the line of shirt that suggests he has recently changed his laundry detergent, the slight tiredness about the eyes, not unexpected given the case your brother has recently completed. You look and look until you have run out of points of interest for the good doctor. Only then do you look at Sherlock.

Your brother has always been the passionate one of the two of you. 

To a lesser observer, the tight control would still be evident. You know better, can see the facade, the affection your brother tries to hide. 

You have often wondered at your shared unusualness – your brother and you, unmoved and above the base existence of human emotions. Now you know that to be incorrect. You are alone in this. 

Suddenly weary, you turn away. A quick flick and the image is wiped from the screen. A file awaits you, your own cold version of comfort – facts and figures and nothing unsettling.


End file.
